


What loyalty will get you

by Andreri25



Series: Loving in Doriath and Beyond [10]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: -shrughs-, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beleg is Pissed, Beleg is a badass, Blood and Torture, M/M, This had nothing to do with the prompt, Turin is running late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 11:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13703802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andreri25/pseuds/Andreri25
Summary: Day 9- Beleg irrumpts in the outlaws' camp. Turin is not there.





	What loyalty will get you

**Author's Note:**

> There are depictions of blood and attempted rape in this work, if that bothers you PLEASE STOP READING.

_Why?_

Beleg wasn’t sure if it was just his heart pondering all of his poor choices or his mind trying to distract him from the gruesome pain. It wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. But it was **_damn well close_** _._

_Why did Túrin have to run away?  Why did Saeros had to go and die? Why did no one stop any of it from happening?_

_Why did he, like an idiot, deny any other help in bringing his husband back? Why on Arda did Thingol not insist?_

_Why did he allow himself to fall for the idiot of a Man in the first place?!_

His own questions did not overcome theirs in his ears. Each howling inquiry unanswered came with the crack of the whip and the stinging across his torso. Not even his back, but his stomach and sides.

_Those bastards_.

 Most of their questions didn’t even make sense! What could he know of the orc leader’s plan for the scouts they have been sending? It was one thing never to have seen and elf and thus not recognize one, but it was other entirely different to deem them kin of orcs.

_Ignorant and stupid bastards._

But of course, silently slipping into the middle of their gathering and merrily demanding to see their leader whilst armed to the teeth may have not given the image Beleg wanted to project. He would not have been overpowered if they hadn’t feigned taking him to Túrin and hit him in the head with a cauldron the second he turned. These Men were fell and devious indeed.

The huge one in front of him drew out a long and crooked hunting knife. With a few strides he was so close Beleg could feel his breath falling on his brow. It spoke much of his size that he stood above and elf, even by a few inches.

His words were so slurred the blond couldn’t catch the half meanings he understood of their speech. For answer Beleg gave a twisted grin and a small shrug.

The brute grinned back as he pressed the blade flat against a lash just beneath the elf’s chest. His other hand shot up to grasp a handful of blood-coated silver hair and shook Beleg violently, making the edges of the hunting knife dig and rub into the tender open flesh of the wound in a new angle with each movement.

Beleg hissed, pulling back his lips to show teeth and tensing up in an effort to stop the tearing. But in this, his own muscles moved and shook and pressed against the blade bringing more flames to his flesh.

The big Man swooshed back. The Men around them cheered and Beleg’s heart sunk to his belly as he saw the cauldron approaching.

He pulled with all his might against his restrains, both leather and rope scrubbing his wrists raw. Hard barn splintered on the open wounds at his sides. His legs were also tied to the tree.

A woman with a dark glint in her eyes held the boiling water right under the archer’s nose. A drop fell on creamy pale skin. Beleg shuddered. She smiled and began pouring a slow tricked down his chest and stomach. Beleg writhed, struggling to drown the scream bubbling in his throat as the water made its scorching trail down his body to mud the dirt and blood beneath him. His breath raced his heart to see which would stop first.

It was gone for a moment as more barely understandable words were spat at him. He grunted back. It seemed to be the wrong response.

After a quick nod to the others, the woman pierced Beleg with her brown eyes. The cauldron was emptied over his feet.

Beleg howled as the burn engulfed him, the thin leather of his boots feeling like it was being melted over his skin and all the way to the bone.

The laughter around him made him sick. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but he’ll be doomed before he gave them the satisfaction.

An argument broke among the Men. In his window of relieve Beleg managed to catch the word for mine. From several different voices.

_No_. _Oh_ **NO!**

With renew strength Beleg fought the bonds. He would not have it. He did NOT survive century after century for these…these…savages to tear his fëa out of his body. One of them seemed to have won the argument -whether Man or Woman Beleg could not tell in his frenzy. They inched closer licking their teeth with their mouth open. The tree trunk cracked under the blond’s force but the bonds held.

They brought a rough hand to Beleg’s stomach and rubbed all over the blood smeared skin in a sort of caress.

Beleg’s breath caught in his throat.

_Elbereth, please no_! Not after Túrin! After everything he had sacrificed to be with his young Man!

The person before him bent down to lick and suck the blood off Beleg’s collarbone.

It was too much. Just too much for him.

Beleg shut his eyes tightly, anguish turning to a rage so vicious that he almost choked on it. Because, damn it all! But he would not die before his absolute shit of a husband had a piece of his mind! Slipping his head to the level of the other, shorter person he gave them a wry grin. Quick as a viper Beleg shot up and caught their mouth, biting their lower lip, hard.

Blood filled his mouth and he spit it at the face of his assaulter being dragged back by their peers. The words that spewed from their mouth Beleg didn’t need to guess their meaning. His blood stained lip curled in a challenging sneer. He would not go down easy.

“Beleg”

His keen ears caught the soft whisper from across the camp, and there he stood. Late as usual. Eloquent as usual. Stupidly handsome as usual. _Túrin._

Alas, was that Man in trouble.


End file.
